


The Warden's Dilemma

by servantofclio



Series: Maeve Surana [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6188539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran heard the truths that Riordan revealed and knows Surana has some choices to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warden's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [franda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/franda/gifts).



> The prompt for this was "things you said that I wish you hadn’t."

“And so the secrets of the Wardens come out.”

Maeve Surana nearly jumped a foot in the air as Zevran detached himself from a shadow. She had thought herself alone with her dilemma as she paced the upper halls of Redcliffe Castle, and she had not heard even a whisper of Zev’s presence before that moment. “Andraste’s sodden ashes, Zev! Don’t _do_ that.”

“Apologies, my dear Warden.” He was smiling, a thin, tight crescent in the dimly lit hall. The words he had previously spoken registered in her ears with a sudden terrible force.

Her eyes narrowed. “You were listening,” she said, her tone flat and cold.

“How could I resist?” He spread his hands in feigned innocence. “A secret meeting of Wardens in this our darkest hour? What manner of brilliant strategies or dark secrets might be revealed in such a council? Of course I listened, my darling.”

Her hands clenched into fists. She drew herself up with all the force she could muster. “You should have left well enough alone. Those were words for Wardens’ ears, and none of your concern.”

She half-regretted the words as soon as they had left her mouth. Zevran’s smile dropped like a stone and he stepped toward her, all coiled grace, the laughter and teasing gone and golden-amber eyes hard. “Not my concern? When I have pledged myself to your cause, and more?”

“I spared your life,” she said, because she could not stop piling one error upon another, could she?

He bared his teeth in something that could not be called a smile. “Ah, and here I was under the impression we had evened that score. And further that _this_ —” he reached out and flicked the ear where she wore his token “—meant something to you.”

She lifted her hand to cover the ear, half afraid he would snatch the earring away. “You know it does,” she said quietly.

“Then do not speak to me of matters involving you _not being my concern_.”

There was justice in what he said. She turned her head so she did not have to see it blazing in his eyes, lowering her own to the floor. “You heard Riordan,” she said after a moment. “He will take the blow if he can, as his time already draws near.”

“And if he cannot?” When she made no reply, Zevran reached out and set his hands on her shoulders. “You cannot be planning to do it yourself.”

“What choice do I have? Ferelden needs its king, and a Warden’s lot is to serve. This is our purpose, to stop the Blight.”

He touched her chin, lightly, and she looked up at him, through the sheen of wetness in her eyes. “No,” he said. “It cannot be. I have watched you all these months. You are the one who has led us all to this point, who persevered where others faltered. You have bewitched and outthought and outfought, and you are not meant to throw your life away on this.”

Her lips trembled as she contemplated the Wardens’ black secret. How little she had known, when she agreed to leave Kinloch Hold in Duncan’s company. How little he had ever bothered to explain, and how few choices she had had, in truth. She tucked those dark seeds of rage away in her heart to consider another time — if she should ever _have_ another time.

She wished Zev had not listened. She wished he had not confronted her about Riordan’s dreadful news. But since he had — “There may be another way,” she said.

His eyebrows quirked. “Oh?”

“Morrigan has... suggested an alternative. But it involves a magic I do not understand, and that will have... consequences.”

“If it a magic you do not understand, it must be a dark and obscure one indeed,” Zevran said, tilting his head.

Her lips pulled into a taut, stiff little smile. “What faith you have in me. But yes, it is. And further...” She lifted her hands and wrapped them around his wrists, tugged until he released her shoulders and their hands could twine together. “... It will require me to persuade Alistair to do her a... certain service.”

“Well, as you say, Ferelden needs its king. I do not think the prospect of a crown and bride so dire as to make him seek the grave.”

“No, but...” she sighed. Morrigan’s offer sat ill with her — not only for the unknown consequences of capturing an Old God’s soul in such a manner, but for both Alistair and Morrigan herself, since she knew they had little love for each other. In a low voice, she explained Morrigan’s proposal to Zevran.

“Curious to think of our lovely witch as a mother,” he remarked when she had finished.

“Curious to think of a child carrying the soul of an Old God,” Maeve returned. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Zev.”

His hands tightened on hers. “Amora... there will be years yet to consider that problem. If you live...”

He trailed off, and she could have cursed him. Yes. If only she lived, she could respond to Morrigan’s child later, if the matter warranted. There were a thousand things she might do, and a thousand things she and he might do together, and...

His eyes pleaded. She contemplated the choice before them, and squeezed his hands. “I’ll go talk to Alistair,” she murmured.


End file.
